Smile Fuji Syusuke Love StoryPrince of Tennis Fan Fiction
by FujiwaraYuko
Summary: He was a tensai . . . good at everything he did no matter what he did. He was perfect- good-looking, smart, and athletic. Although I love him, will he ever love me?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Seven Years of Age**

"You bookworm!" one of the boys teased me. "You'll never be anything good . . . aside from an over-obsessed bookworm!"

I stayed silent as I continued to flip to the next page of the book.

"Ha!" the rest of his little gang snickered playfully.

"Not gonna talk, _girly?"_ the boy flicked my forehead. "No wonder you fail P.E. class!"

Again, the rest of them snickered at me.

By then, tears had started to fall from my eyes . . . falling to reach the tip of my chin. Those tears fell down onto the delicate pages of the book, leaving a translucent splotch onto the words.

"Crybaby!" he pointed his finger accusingly at me, guffawing as if he never laughed before.

Soon, I was sobbing . . . and sobbing . . . and sobbing . . . and sobbing. How could they be so mean? Was I not good enough for them? I have tried and tried again and again to become better in any sport, but I was horrible in each and every one . . . from soccer . . . to basketball . . . to baseball . . . to even the simplest of them all—running. What sport could I possibly do now? Everyone is different, no?

A boy of our age stood up against the crowd. He walked in front of me with his arms wide, as if he was a blockade. His eyes couldn't be seen, and his beige hair was much different than from the others. He was none other than Fuji Syusuke—the guy whom everyone loved and adored, aced every single sport out there, and was number one in anything he did, including academics.

"Stop it, you all," he said, eyes now open to reveal his enticing cerulean eyes. "You're being too harsh. No one should have to go through such circumstances. _Everyone is different, no?"_

His last phrase . . . was what I just said in my mind previously. The exact words . . .

The boys cowered back from their actions. It was _the_ popular Fuji after all. No one dared oppose his entity.

"Apologize," he commended them.

They were hesitant to reply, "We're sorry."

Soon, they scrambled away from the two of us and I thanked him for saving me.

"Arigato, Fuji-kun," I bowed my head in amity and respect.

"It was nothing," he smiled, eyes now closed. "Saa . . . Which reminds me to ask . . . What is your name?"

"Suzuki," I stated my last name cheerfully before including my full name. "Suzuki Yukoto."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**Return to Japan**

It has been an approximate ten years since I last saw either those bullies or Fuji. My family and I left straight to Britain thereafter due to their family business, and I attended Saint Joseph's Elementary and Middle School for the time. It wasn't until I reached ninth grade that I attended Queen Victoria's Institute of Literature and the Arts that I found my real talent in some sport, other than academics. My chemistry partner asked me one day to teach me the sport called tennis. It was one of her requirements to get a sport scholarship to her dream college. Agreeing in the subject, I aided her whilst in the process, I was attracted to the game. Soon after, she left school during her sophomore year for the scholarship, and it was because of her that I decided to persevere in the sport. Afterwards, I began playing by myself against those tennis walls daily, and it became my hobby.

A few weeks ago, my parents received an important call from their headquarters concerning their next task within their profession—business. This time, they were called to the Tokyo Prefecture to continue their business, and so that began our journey towards our homeland. Now, we were taking the little possessions we had, since me moved ever so often to places here and there.

_Flashback_

_ "You'll be attending Seishun Gakuen, Seigaku for short," my father told me bluntly, for he rarely had a medium-length conversation with me anyways._

_ "Yes, Father," I replied respectfully, for after all, I seldom met him and Mother at all._

_End of Flashback_

Now arriving at the airport to board the plan and having passed all the security checkpoints, my parents and I boarded the plane. Knowing that it was a waste of money to buy first-class tickets, the three of us bought the cheapest ones, knowing that it was all the same, for we were still going to the same destination no matter where we sat on the plane. I sat by the window as my parents sat next to each other in the rear end. As they were chitchatting with one another, I sat down and read some books concerning mental tennis by Jeff Greenwald.

After a good few long hours of patience of reading, we arrived at Japan, our homeland. Upon arrival, we left the plane and took our luggage from the circular belt.

Then, Father drove the three of us to our new home—a townhouse that had three bedrooms, four bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, a study, and a basement. By that time, we unpacked our belongings into the drawers that were already in place. Then, we placed blankets and pillows to make the rooms look fuller than before, which was only a plain bed frame. Afterwards, Mother and Father departed our new home to buy some items to make the living room and study more neat and formal.

"Do whatever you want," Mother smiled warmly at me, for she was closer to me than Father, although we also seldom talked to each other. She had faith in me more than Father. "Just don't go around causing trouble."

"Hai," I replied politely. "I'll just go play tennis in some park nearby . . ."

"Do you know where the nearest one is?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it safe?"

"I'll leave immediately if I deem it dangerous at all," I informed her. "If it is not, however, I will be playing it for a while."

"Just be back home at . . ." she paused, glancing at the clock we had placed there earlier, which read twelve—noon. "Just be back at six o'clock. That should give you a good six hours of playing . . . or maybe five and a half, considering the fact that you should have time to return home or find another place to play at . . . In any case, just be back by six, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied almost immediately as my parents left for the nearest supermarket and supply store.

Once they had left, I took out my tennis attire—black Nike shorts and my class T-shirt, which had everyone's name on it from junior year.

Let me just say . . . starting senior year at a new school isn't a very good idea for it could lower your GPA by a lot if you're not used to it. Also, it's in my native language . . . but since I seldom used it unless at home, it could be difficult taking high honor courses like that. Now, enough of my rant . . .

After I had changed into my attire, I rushed to the computer (my dad recently set it up in about fifteen minutes) and searched the nearest tennis courts. The nearest was the Seigaku courts, but I doubted they were open for public use. The next nearest was in some club, and I couldn't attend there either. Now, I searched public courts and out came the nearest one now . . . Seigaku again. I guess I was wrong about Seigaku and it's courts not public in certain times of the day . . .

After logging off the computer, I took my tennis racquet and a can of tennis balls, for a fancy bag was too much for me personally . . . and particularly expensive.

The day was nice and warm. The sun was neither too sunny nor too hot. The clouds were of an immaculate white, for only a few gray specks could be seen upon it. The trees were swaying slightly from the soft breeze that swept through the streets. Right now from the start, I could tell that it was going to be a good day, not to mention is it the perfect weather to play tennis within.

Once I arrived at the Seigaku tennis courts, I saw a few boys out playing. There, I observed their tennis styles and them personally. One boy had bright red hair, which glistened radiantly against the glittering sun. Another boy had pitch-black hair and wore it like a cap. His shots were mainly defensive, hitting the tennis balls directly on or near the baseline. Meanwhile, his partner, the redhead, had movements of that of an acrobat. Those two were a doubles partner pair as they were versing another two people. Of those two people, one was wearing rectangular glasses and spiked navy blue hair. The other looked strangely familiar. He had slit eyes, light brown hair . . . Fuji Syusuke?

I stood behind the tree, either too scared or possibly too frightened to move or even come out to reveal myself. Those four were good . . . so good that it seemed like I was nothing compared to them. They had fancy shots and movements as intricate as the body language of a computer's coding system, if you can imagine that.

"Oi, oi!" the redhead complained. "Fujiko . . . that shot was too hard . . . We're rallying for fun here!"

"Saa . . . my bad," he replied calmly with his eyes closed.

Deciding that hiding was a waste of time, I came out into the open, seen by the foursome. I shielded my face with my medium-length auburn hair. The wall was past their court, so I awkwardly walked past them as they awkwardly stopped their tennis to stare at me.

Once I had reached my destination, I took out my can of tennis balls and placed two of the three in my pocket. I did a drop serve with my one ball in hand and continued to hit forehands and backhands as I normally did.

"You're pretty good," the black-capped boy complimented me, for he and his friends were already by the fence surrounding the courts to watch me play.

"Arigato," I thanked him with a closed-eye smile, hiding my dark brown eyes. "You four are so much better though."

"Nya!" the redhead began. "Your shots curve at certain times, and some are so powerful! You're really good, nya."

"You guys are better," I countered before continuing to hit my shots.

"From the 'looks' of it," the nerdy person with the rectangular glasses asked. "Since you don't believe in yourself, you're a beginner . . . and your form isn't exactly perfect, by the way."

"I started two months ago," I replied as I slammed a forehand straight down the center of the wall . . . not in an account to show off, if you are asking.

"Saa . . ." Fuji stated before I let the ball I just slammed yet again fly past me. "I'm pretty sure that you're that girl that left in first grade to Britain, neh?"

"That's correct," I said as I picked up the ball that flew past me while practicing. "I am."

"Hm . . . Will you be attending Seigaku then?" he asked, his eyes now open to reveal his deep azure eyes.

"Yes," I responded with a nod at his direction. "I will be attending Seigaku."

"Do you know which class you will be in?" he continued to question me.

I had to pause for a moment to recall the schedule and information I had just receive from the school before answering, "Class 3-2, I do believe."

"Same as me," he smiled his sadistic smile. The same old one he would smile every single time someone met him . . . unless you made him angry . . . _extremely_ angry . . .

**Inui Sadaharu's Point of View**

Fuji was acting particularly strange for he never interacted with the opposite gender . . . Rarely, unless necessary anyways . . . This . . . was a first . . . Hm . . . The various amounts of this new data could dramatically change the data I have now . . . Fuji . . . your are an _interesting_ person . . . Your percentage of how much you could _possibly _like this girl is . . . an approximate 20.5 percent . . . And as for the girl interaction percentage unless when necessary . . . 47.67 percent. Fuji . . . watch out . . .

**Fuji Syusuke's Point of View**

Yukoto . . . So you finally decided to show, or should I say, return, yourself to Japan, eh? For a while, I thought that you would be gone . . . forever . . . Okay . . . that sounds a bit too dramatic, no?

"Do you want to play with us for a bit?" I offered. "You and I can team up against Oishi and Eiji. Which reminds me to say . . . Oishi is the guy with the black hair. Eiji is the one with the red, and Inui is the one with the blue. And . . . I _do_ believe that you know who _I_ am, no?"

She laughed slightly before replying, "Obviously."

"Besides," I continued on. "I think that Inui would like to continue to write data, am I correct, Inui?"

He displayed a brilliant shiver that stretched his entire body span. As usual, I was here to shock . . . and . . . I shock. Besides, he can't threaten me with his Inui juice . . . it's too plaintive for Tezuka and I to notice . . . unlike Eiji and Oishi over here . . .

"H-hai . . ." he stuttered for once. "H-hai, Fuji-senpai . . ."

"That's what I thought," I flashed him one my typical sadistic smiles. "Ready?"

"Uh . . ." Oishi asked Yukoto. "What is your name, may I ask?"

"Suzuki Yukoto," she replied simply. "I don't mind whatever you call me."

"I call calling you . . . Suzu-chan!" Eiji claimed the nickname immediately upon my offer. "No one else gets to call her that! I have dibs!"

"Eiji being over-hyperactive is higher than last year's rate of 98.7 percent . . ." Inui equated furiously in his little notebook.

"Well, then . . ." Oishi sweat dropped slightly in embarrassment of his friend. "I'll just call you Yuko-san. Is that alright with you?"

"It's fine," she agreed before flashing a quick smile of satisfaction.

It kind of seemed as if she wanted to make a good impression on the four of us, although she already had.

"Then I suppose I'll just call you Yukoto again," I said simply.

"Nya . . . what about you, Inui?" Eiji asked, jumping up and down in delight.

The blue-head paused to think about the matter for a mere moment, "I believe that Suzuki-san is adequate."

"I just met you four and you already have nicknames for me?" she muttered under her breath, yet I could still hear it, for I could practically hear anything within my range.

"Something like that," I gave her my usual smile.

"Oh, gee," she pouted, puckering her lips to the side.

"Wow, you're so good," Eiji pointed out, panting after the long hours we had been playing for.

"What can I say?" she laughed. "You've been giving me a hard time to deal with. No wonder you're a regular. You're amazing!"

"Hey," I scrunched my face in a laughable manner. "What about me?"

"You're always good at everything, Fuji," she replied truthfully. "We would be complimenting everything about you at any moment, so it's only when you do something completely out of the blue and spectacular that we will be commending you about."

"Humph," I faked anger before all five of us laughed considerably.

"I'd better get going now," Yukoto stated, glancing at her Seiko watch. It was silver-plated with a sapphire blue interior. Classic. "My parents will be worried if I don't be home in two minutes."

"Neh," Sadahara wrinkled his eyebrows. "_What_ time is it anyways?"

"Ha," Eiji criticized hilariously before singing. "Sadahara doesn't know what he's doing!"

"Hey!" Inui crossed his arms, looking the other way.

The atmosphere among us felt as if we were family, really. Just the five of us only . . . Though there should be more to come. No Tezuka . . . Echizen . . . it was a weird feeling . . . but it gave us a sense of warmth.

"5:58 P.M. and 39 seconds," she answered Inui's question. "Now, I have to go. Au revoir!"

"Bye!" we boys all said in unison as we watched walk away into the sunset, out of our reach . . . and most certainly . . . out of mine.

**Suzuki Yukoto's Point of View**

I was running. I didn't want to be late to get home. Come on . . . two more miles. One more minute. I was running as fast as I could. By the time I reached home, it was six o'clock and two seconds.

"Oh, phew!" I exhaled a sigh of relief.

I looked around me to see that everything was untouched. My parents weren't home yet, which was odd considering that they should have been home by this point in time.

I picked up my cell phone from my tennis bag and called my mother.

_Zzz._

_ Zzz._

_ Zzz._

My phone buzzed endlessly until the answer machine was almost began to speak.

"_Your call has not been-" _the voice began before somebody interrupted it.

"Oh, sweetie!" my mother rushed through the phone. "I'm sorry if your father and I will be late getting home. We bumped into the Fujis at the department store, and they invited us for dinner. Are you up for it or no?"

"That's funny," I chuckled. "Because I just played tennis with Syusuke five minutes ago. I just got home . . . so . . .yeah."

"Hahaha," my mother laughed along with me. "Syusuke will come an pick you up in about ten minutes. In the mean time, get ready, okay?"

"Alright," I smiled, though she couldn't see it as she was somewhere far away.

"Mhmm," she replied. "Bye."

"Bye," I responded simply as I hung up the phone, getting ready for what seemed like the perfect night to end the perfect day.


End file.
